


Eyes the Colour Amber

by Lisie



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Headcanon, Missing Scene, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisie/pseuds/Lisie
Summary: My first attempt at a fanfic.If I keep up at it, it will largely follow the events from late ARR from the perspective of Aymeric and Lucia, and their interactions(friendship) with each other and the Warrior of Light.My own character was used as a reference for the WoL in this story, and I have taken quite a bit of artistic licence with other characters too. If I've messed anything up horribly, please let me know, I am going back and trying to edit where I've messed up timelines or lore.For reference my WoL is a Hyuran female Scholar.Please note that this story contains heavy spoilers from 2.4 onwards.*** This story is not yet complete. I cant seem to find the setting on this work to mark it as incomplete, but there are still plans for more chapters. If this changes in future, I will be sure to post it up here in the description. ***
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

"Lucia. For the first time, I feel at a loss. "

The statement escaped Aymeric's lips unbidden, and with it an unfamiliar wave of emotion he couldn't quite grasp.

He felt his chilled ears and face warm as they passed through the Gates of Judgement, the air from the south coalescing with the frigid tundra he had always called home. He stopped, taking a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a short moment, frowning as he did so. He heard Lucia stop beside him dutifully, the hilt of her sword clanging slightly against her armour. 

"May I ask why?", Lucia asked brusquely. If Aymeric didn't know her better, he would say from her tone that she didn't care, but he knew that was not the case. She may be a woman who seems curt to the point of being rude, but what he had come to realize was that she was the epitome of "say what you mean and mean what you say" - a comforting quality for him as most of what he had to deal with were the sugar coated daggers thinly veiled as polite discourse among the High Houses and their peers. He frowned. Perhaps that is the reason? My quarry this time is so very disconnected from my usual opponents. 

"I'm not sure. But I posit that it mayhap be that I am feeling insecure in my abilities. Alphinaud Leveilleur, grandson of the Great Louisoix, and the lady they call, the Warrior of Light. Those are grand titles, and carry with them a weight of trust, selflessness, and dare I say, goodness, which I have seldom had the pleasure of encountering. And.." He hesitated before continuing," I suppose I'm wary that what a person has elevated themselves up to be, may yet be another devilishly orchestrated play". 

Aymeric reluctantly moved forwards, his walk at only a stroll's pace, and Lucia followed suit, her head hanging slightly lower than usual, her brows knitted slightly. They walked in silence for some time, the snow crunching under their feet as they made their way towards Camp Dragonhead. 

The complicated matter in Ishgard was known well by them both. The largely unheard pleas of the poor and destitute, families marred and torn apart from decades of knowing nothing but war, the lie upon lie that was so ingrained, you could say that Ishgard was standing on deceit which served as mortar to the stones they walked everyday. The High Houses, and their apparent fervent piety, which seemed nothing more than a justification for them to stand at the pinnacle, enjoying niceties most common folk of Ishgard could only dream of. It struck them that if Halone was indeed good, how could She not abhor the rigid classification of have, and have nots that permeated every facet of Ishgardian society.

"Just be yourself." Lucia suddenly blurted out as they were ten steps from their destination. The edges of Aymeric's lips upturned a fraction. Of course, he thought, I have people by my side I trust. The world is not devoid of the goodness I crave so much. 

The door creaked as the pair were ushered into the small room. There was nothing more than a table, and a few simple furnishings. Aymeric briefly cast his eyes approvingly at the setting. After all, he knew that it was room's like this where some of the most, albeit not so glamourous, but far reaching decisions and conversations were made and had. He then cast his eyes toward the unfamiliar pair presented in front of him. He intended to begin with whom he assumed to be the young Master Alphinaud - his measured countenance, and his clear and bright eyes glistening with all the excitement and vigor he had expected of someone his age - but half-way through the thought, he felt his eyes pulled inextricably towards the woman standing next to him. She was fairly tall, for a Hyur, stood quietly but with confidence, and was dressed neatly in a red silk shirt, shorts, and thick tights which he presumed intended to stave away the cold, and a golden Codex at her side - but it was her gaze that struck him; eyes so deep they looked as if they could tell a thousand stories. From just a glance, he felt like he would remember their colour for an eternity, the most beautiful deep brown, with gentle flecks of fiery gold. His eyebrows twitched so slightly as for no one but himself to notice. He inclined his head, forcibly tearing his own eyes away, and bowed to the pair. 

"Commander Leveilleur. It is both an honour and a pleasure to meet you.".... 

After the meeting, Aymeric found himself in altogether another quandry. The Warrior of Light, he thought. He knew he had always been intrigued from what he'd been told, but meeting her in person was quite different from what he expected. Honestly, she didn't talk much - most of the talking was done by himself and Master Alphinaud, but every word she spoke made his heart tremble. 

"Sir, do you feel the same as before?" - Lucias voice broke through his thoughts. 

"Not at all. It was a good start. If Master Alphinaud is this formidable at his age, my sympathies go out to all those who might face him ten years from this day. I am more than accustomed to negotiation and deliberation, and yet I felt in no way certain of any advantage against him." 

Lucia nodded satisfactorily in agreement. For a first meeting, it certainly did go well. But - he only mentioned the young master Alphinaud. Lucia pondered this and found herself quite without words as she puzzled over this inconsistency in what she knew of the commander. 

She looked up quickly, never one to wallow in fruitless musing, and said, "And the Warrior of Light? I thought she was as impressive as the rumours tell." To her complete surprise, she noticed his lips purse slightly and his shoulders stiffen. 

"I'm not sure what to make of her." His words sounded long and measured. Far more so than seemed appropriate for the content of what he said. Oh well, Lucia dismissed the thought. I suppose she _is_ the type to throw anyone off balance. Her countenance is even more terrifying when paired with the tales of her deeds. How can someone who seems so gentle and quiet, also possess such fortitude as to face whom and what she has faced, and yet still, lived to tell the tale. If she could describe it as anything, her mere presence felt stifling, for all her reticence aside. 

Beside her, the commander cleared his throat, before asking, "What did you make of her?" 

"Terrifying." Aymeric chuckled at her response, his posture returning to normal. Lucia felt herself relax again, not realising that she too had been tense from the moment they left the Intercessory. "But she seems of the good sort, though it would behoove us to be cautious." 

"Indeed." Aymeric affirmed pensively. "However, we must needs put those thoughts aside for a time. The news from Whitebrim seems troubling. For all my insistence that Ishgard's internal affairs remain our own, I am unsure for how long I can truthfully keep such a stance. Heretics from our nation, born from our wars, are involved in such affairs, and it seems inevitable that such actions will lead us to more dealings with our counterparts from today, should we wish for it, or otherwise." 


	2. Chapter 2

As he arrived at Snowcloak, Aymeric was immediately met by his subordinates, who quickly summarised the proceedings which had taken place after their last missive. As he was absorbing all that had been recounted, a figure of which he was now familiar began striding towards him. "Ah, Master Leveilleur. I did not expect us to meet again quite so soon, but as before it is quite the pleasure." His eyes wandered from Alphinaud, past his shoulder to the other Scions congregated in the pass. She's not here, he thought to himself. Of course, if not for her, who else would they send headfirst towards a new quarry with not so much as a few companions at her side. He still found it difficult to reconcile the woman he had met not so long ago in Camp Dragonhead to all the tales regaled in her honour, but for the evidence in front of him, he could hardly keep denying they were indeed one and the same.

"As it is for I, Lord Commander. However, as much as I would like to exchange pleasantries, I'm afraid the situation now is quite tenuous, so I would like to cut to the chase." Aymeric lifted his eyebrows in surprise, his gaze and focus returning to the young man standing resolutely in front of him. Despite appearances at the negotiation table, it seemed the young Alphinaud was quite capable of discerning when to use his words, and when to act. He smiled, acutely reminded of how those prone to action are so able to get to the heart of matters so succinctly. Although perhaps in the case of some, it's far too succinct. The thought of Estinien's grunts and shrugs flickered in his mind for a moment, before returning to matters at hand. 

"Very well. My knights have informed me that a small contingent have entered Snowcloak, and plan to pursue Iceheart. Know that in this matter, you will have my full co-operation. I have ordered my knights to be on high alert, and would suggest that you and yours do the same." 

"Quite. And I thank you for the advice, and the proffer of your assistance. As you may have heard already, the Warrior of Light and a group of her close companions entered some time ago." 

Aymeric's eyes cast upwards to the entrance of the cave. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alphinaud do the same, a slight crease of worry escaping his otherwise measured expression. 

Alphinaud shifted his weight slightly from one foot to the other, before muttering, "I probably couldn't stop her, even if I hadn't been the one to implore her to go. I imagine you've heard what Haurchefaunt has had to say about the Grand Warrior of Light." 

"From the description, I was expecting a god amongst men, built from solid steel, and breath of flames to boot." He had intended to jest, however even he had to admit the tone of his voice sounded hollow and flat in his ears. Neither of them smiled, nor spoke, merely staring at the entrance for a time, before Aymeric dropped his gaze to the young man in front of him once more. "I'm somewhat relieved that under all that flattering praise, her dear friends are still intimate with the reality of the danger she has been thrown into time and time again." Alphinaud frowned and his eyes cast downwards to the ground. Suddenly there was a frigid awkwardness between them which left Aymeric feeling quite bemused. Alphinaud shook his head slightly, once more straightening himself up before declaring his intentions to return to the other Scions until such a point as the Warrior of Light returned. Aymeric nodded quickly, accompanied with a low bow as Alphinaud turned and strode once more to his companions. 

  


Nearby Lucia watched the conversation between the two with curiosity. At some point in the conversation, the young Master Alphinaud seemed to completely clam up. And the way he was looking up at the entrance to the cave. Oh boy, she thought. It seems I wasn't wrong. She reminded herself to tell the commander that for all the connection to Louisoix and whatever other lofty persons or organisations, Alphinaud was definitely still a normal healthy young man. That being said, I wonder what the commander could possibly have said to him to make him so defensive. She could feel the part of her that absolutely loved gossip of the amorous kind bubbling to the surface. It wasn't something someone of her station and her assurance to strict duty and honour usually had time for. When she was in the mood for deluding herself, she liked to think it was because, if what else would she devote herself to her cause if not so that others may pursue their peace, their loves, and their dreams. But in reality she knew, despite all appearances, she simply loved a good sappy love story. In the midst of her musings, she realized that there had been a lull in the activity of the temple knights. 

"What are all of you resting on your laurels for?" She barked at the nearest knight. He was quite young, and looked a little wet behind the ears. He jumped at suddenly being addressed and looked awkwardly to his left and right before fumbling for the words he was after. "Ah yes, the patrols have been formed and scouts have yet to return, so we are waiting until we know more from them so that we can. Um. Ensure we secure the area." Lucia could feel a headache coming on. She sighed a little inwardly before remembering she too was once a glib little upstart determined to do her part despite her obvious inexperience. "I don't suppose you assume the Warrior of Light can fly do you?" The young Knight quivered noticeably and his eyes widened. "Ladders my dear boy. You don't believe it fair for her to have climbed all the way up that glacier to begin with, fight whatever in the hells is waiting for her there, and happily stroll back down again. While I don't doubt that she's perfectly capable of doing so." The Knight yelped and immediately scurried off, seemingly relieved at whatever could take him away from the situation he had stumbled into. Lucia sighed and grumbled, "I'm not that scary. One would think you had just faced down a Horde". 

"Quite to the contrary. He had faced a far more formidable foe than just the Horde."

Lucia spun on her heels, and performed an immediate salute to the man standing behind her.

"Lord Commander. The patrols have been arranged and the scouting parties dispatched to scour the area. I also took the liberty of asking the Knights without duties to set up ladders and ramps to the cave entrance. Also, respectfully Sir, I would rather not be compared to a bunch of rampaging dragons."

Aymeric laughed openly at her closing words, before saying, "No need to be so respectful towards me. I know you do like to keep up appearances in front of the other knights, but after all, we are still friends are we not. It seems you have all the knights quite embroiled in their own duties to possibly take notice of the two of us." 

Lucia sighed, closed her eyes and clicked her tongue. If anyone knew of this side of the commander, I can't imagine what they'd say. Albeit he was absolutely steadfast in the pursuit of his beliefs and his duty, and when it came to serious matters he was clear headed, pragmatic and determined, but outside of that he could sometimes be quite the annoying git. I suppose just as I have my guilty pleasures that distract me from duty, he too is permitted his own. My heart bleeds for the poor unwitting noblewoman who ends up shackled to this ball and chain though.

"Thank you." the commanders voice had resumed his usual stoic yet delicate tone. "For all her and her companion's deeds. It seems many are oft to forget that she is only mortal. Though I was pleased to discover those closest to her are quite aware of her limitations. " Lucia frowned again, as so often seemed to be the case where the Warrior of Light was mentioned. Of course she was powerful, of course she was beyond scary, but at heart, the gentleness in her demeanour belied a heart of gold. One which certainly held her closest friends and companions dear and precious. For what else could she so brazenly throw herself into the midst of battle for. A ladder really seems a bit disingenuous when thinking of it that way. Truly, if things work out to the commanders hopes, and we find ourselves allies to the Warrior of Light and the Scions, I hope that I could be added to the list of people who she knows see her as more than just her title.  
  
Lucia realised with a start that _she_ was the one who had suggested being wary to the commander. She looked up at the cave entrance, thinking, well you certainly make it hard to hate you, Miss Warrior of Light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I messed up some lore there >.< Sorry for those who read it before the edit. It is fixed now.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time a shout was heard from above them, the sky had darkened and a bitter wind was blowing across the icy floor towards Snowcloak. Suddenly, there was a flurry of activity amongst the Scions and the Knights, who had largely settled into two disparate groups around their respective campfires. The group of Scions ran to the foot of the ladders with blankets and hot tea, and fussed over the party who had exited the cave. 

Lucia stood some way off, watching the scene unfold. The party who had faced whatever they had in Snowcloak, albeit looking a little battered, were in good spirits and gladly accepted the blankets and hot tea given to them before making their way towards the Scions' campfire. As they seated themselves in the makeshift seats, Alphinaud settling himself besides the Warrior of Light, their faces turned sombre as they launched into heated dicussion. As much as she was curious, Lucia's attention shifted to the Knights, their armour clattering loudly in the still night as they prepared to ascend into the cave themselves. She could hear Aymeric's exasperated voice calling over the din.  
He looked over to his Second in Command, Lucia giving him a mini-salute as she made her way over to the foot of the ladders to take over direction of the overzealous knights. 

Aymeric looked to the sky, stars bright overhead, suddenly feeling the tiredness wash over him. The past few days had been busy, and he was ever grateful for his decision to keep Lucia by his side, despite her history with the Empire. With all the time he had spent out of his office, his evenings - and early mornings - had consisted of working on documents till the candles burned out. The endless beaurocracy he had to deal with in his position certainly frustrated him at times. How he wish he could spend an evening simply looking at the stars, or a having a leisurely meal with good wine and good company. But. Aymeric closed his eyes, levelling his head. One day far in the future perhaps, when he had done what he had set out to do. For now, the short reprieve my faithful subordinate could give me would have to do. 

A familiar voice sounded behind him, and Aymeric turned to find Alphinaud a pace away, head slightly dipped, and a marked frown on his face. "I'm afraid Iceheart escaped capture. It appears she used some sort of teleportation technique similar to the Aetherytes scattered over Eorzea. A companion of ours has arranged a scholar able to aid us in somehow utilizing this teleportation crystal to continue pursuit of Iceheart." 

Aymeric waited for him to continue, as it was clear he had more to add, "It seems a Primal might be what awaits on the other side", Alphinaud said, half words, half sigh. Aymeric's lips turned into a fine line, his mind suddenly swimming with all the information he had ever accumulated on Primals and summoning.  
His eyes subconsciously snapped to the Warrior of Light, who was once again joined in the amiable chatter around the campfire. His stomach lurched at the serenity and cheer that had taken over the company, who he knew were somehow in full knowledge of what they may have to face. He kept his eyes fixed on the slim figure, currently wrapped waist to tiptoe in a thick matted blanket, while her arms were left free to huddle over her tea.  
Alphinaud continued, "There are also some matters regarding lady Iceheart revealed in Snowcloak.." Aymeric listened attentively, deep in thought, but his eyes never left the same spot. 

Suddenly, her face flicked towards him, neck arched, sending her medium length mahogany hair sprawling across the top of her shoulders, eyes meeting his. Time seemed to slow to a stop, and he found himself completely captivated. Whatever words Alphinaud had said in that moment were regretfully lost to the wind. Their eyes met for a mere moment, the very edge of her lips tilting upwards into a small smile, her eyes creasing at the edges fleetingly before turning to face once more toward her companions. 

To his complete horror, he realised his jaw had dropped open. He hastily composed himself, his eyebrows pinched together at his nose, locking his eyes firmly on the young man in front of him, grateful his complete lack of decorum had gone unnoticed at such an important juncture in Alphinaud's monologue. 

He took particular care not to let his gaze wander while their conversation moved onto details regarding Alphinaud's plans to interrupt the summoning. "I understand", Aymeric's voice rang out as Alphinaud concluded his matters, "As soon as my knights have completed their investigation tonight and given me a brief report, I will return to Ishgard. Unfortunately I am not able to remain, as there are matters accumulating which require my attention. Thank you, Master Leveilleur, for your frank and open sharing of information. It has left me with a favourable impression; one which allows me to rest assured this matter will be handled with apt caution and resolution in the Scions' hands."  
Alphinaud nodded, satisfied, before bowing low in front of him. Aymeric returned the bow, before making his way back to the Ishgardian faction camped in the valley. 

Just as he was reaching his destination, he felt a sudden tap on his left shoulder, and an athletic and spirited woman in a mask he recognized as part of the Scions bounced into view from his right. She leaned in conspiratorily, and what she whispered made Aymeric's blood run cold. As soon as she had accomplished her feat, she bounced animatedly back to the group of Scions huddled in the valley. Aymeric brought his hand up to cover his mouth, mortified, all his blood rushing back from his feet, to his ears, and down his neck. To think he had allowed such a lull in his character, and had been caught. He closed his eyes and shook his head, more than aware of the now apparent feelings one look from that woman could illicit in him. His frown lifted and he peered upwards to the stars once more. 

So her name is Lisie...


	4. Chapter 4

The moon was shining brightly overhead as Aymeric made his way to his office in Ishgard. With the matters at Snowcloak left in his subordinates hands, he felt it prudent to spend the remainder of the night attending to the vast pile of parchment which had been mounting precariously on his desk. He settled himself comfortably on his chair, steeling himself against what was to come, and began with the first document on the top of the pile. It was deadly quiet in the room, nothing more than occasional sounds of his quill scritching and the shuffling of pages and tomes. When the assorted documents had dwindled to merely the one or two he had left aside for further investigation, which certainly had to wait until morning - after all, who else could be up at this ungodly hour - he leaned back in his seat, exhausted beyond what most would consider mortal limits. His mind wandered to the events of the preceeding days, and the looming threat of a primal on their doorstep. By Halone; he was no stranger to a battlefield, but primals were another matter entirely. How does one even face such a thing. He thought of the party huddled by the campfire, his cheeks heating slightly at the memory before decidedly sitting straight once again, grabbing a clean sheet of parchment and his quill. His hand hovered awkwardly over the page for an age, his mind completely failing to conjure the words he had been so determined to pen. Get a hold of yourself, Aymeric de Borel, he thought to himself. A man of your standing has no time for such frivolous fretting; a simple crush is nothing to lose your head over. He couldn't even be sure if that was indeed the case. After all, it was probably more admiration, which seemed more than befitting of her deeds and reputation. Yes, he convinced himself with a decided nod. That is all it is. He began to write, clean and practiced words forming across the page.

  


It was dawn by the time Lucia trudged across the Steps of Faith. If she didn't know the commander so well, she would be up in arms about the inhumane expectation he had placed on her shoulders, but the reality was, she knew she worked twice as hard as other knights, but about as half as hard as that stubborn blockhead. From the way he had been impatiently eyeing the tower of work threatening to overwhelm the coveted domain of his desk, like a child who had been denied his toys, it seemed to take up all of his self control simply to tear himself away when they had left for Snowcloak early last morn. 

She knew he certainly enjoyed the official work that took him outside his office, and even better out of the city limits, but there always seemed to be some ethereal force which pulled him back to what she, as one who preferred swords to a quill, and a battlefield to a court, could only describe as the most inane and pointless deskwork. He had once said to her that all people living within a society had their role; so that brave men or women of action could fight and die for Ishgard, not in vain, safe in the knowledge that their sacrifices would not go unnoticed in the annals of history, and their families would not suffer in their absence, until they could find a peace of their own to seek solace in; there had to be someone fighting the battle of words and wit from above. She knew he was right deep down, it was a very large part of why she had abandoned her home nation, in favour of the vision Aymeric held for his own - she simply wished of all the people constantly flooding for his attention, some could have half of his pragmatism. In order to turn to the Wheel of Change, the archaic must needs be challenged and a path mapped out; with a nation as frigid in its customs and beliefs as the wind that blew through its streets, and as unmoving as the stone which shielded it's people from the cold, this was no easy task and required much in way of persuation and painstaking formalisation. But some of the documents which landed on the Lord Commander's desk, or people demanding his immediate presence, she could describe as nothing more than petty bickering or pandering, depending on the objective; a nobleman who feels slighted by the cursory words of a knight, the fluff of pompous churchmen more attuned to unrealistic ideals than the reality of the price of swords in gold, or the lost blood and sweat of knights, the list seemed neverending. But that man dutifully listened, weighing each word as if they were the last words of a dying saint, no matter how beneath him she felt it to be. He reminded her of a lonely oak in the harsh fields of the Coerthas Highlands she had come across one day. Despite the harsh and unrelenting weather which had beat on its bark for years, it had grown tilted, facing the direction of the gales, ever creeping upwards and forwards. 

As she reached the street outside the Forgotten Knight, she put the thought aside, unsure whether to return to her quarters or make her way to the commander's office. _Surely he couldn't yet be up_. She grimaced. It's more than possible. 

As she swung the door open, Lucia was only half surprised to see the figure of her friend and superior, hunched over his desk staring at two pages set out in front of him. As the door cluttered shut behind her, the commander lifted his tired icy blue eyes, dark circles forming a stark contrast to his alabaster skin. "Lord Commander," she started warningly. He smiled weakly at her, turning her admonition to a defeated sigh instead. In all their years as friends she knew him too well to bother. "Anything I can help with?", she straightened her tired body back to its full height. 

The commander paused before answering very slowly, his eyes sliding away from contact, the faintest of - wait. Lucia's eyes widened, suddenly rapt to attention. By the ----. In all the -----. Is he blushing!? Never once, has she ever seen such a sight from the Lord Commander. Although he was one to indulge himself in mischievous and tasteless quips - only to his closest friends and in the most private of circumstances - she had never seen him express anything close to whatever that was. For a second, she wanted to burst into laughter, but in the next she remembered that picture of the lone oak on the fields of Coerthas. She knew of anyone she had ever encountered, he was the one she most wished would act a little more unreserved. The weight of his position and his own, what seemed insurmountable, mission, meant that his thoughts were so often fixated on the dreary and depressing matters of all the darkest parts of society and how to turn that reality into something of the past. She decided to spare her good friend from her mirth. Just this once, though, she added to herself, with a slight cock of her head. 

"Yes. Which of these letters is more appropriate." Lucia took both of the sheets he had held out to her and began to read. Her maiden heart squealed when she read who the letter was addressed to - The Warrior of Light! She felt a small prick to her conscience. Why does he never make anything easy for himself. Nonetheless, she read the rest of the letter, feeling more and more deflated as she parsed the contents. It seems she may have gotten ahead of herself. This is nothing past a very official letter extending regards, thanks and well wishes in the battle due to take place against the Primal. Signed, Ser Aymeric de Borel, Lord Commander of the Temple Knights blah blah blah. Her Maiden heart, now crushed to an unrecognisable rotted pith, moved on with little hope to the next draft. She felt a smile creeping over her face as she read the second letter. 

Aymeric waited nervously for his time of judgement. He knew his friend was sharp, and Heavens forbid he had to go through another ordeal like he had with the sprightly Scion he was completely unprepared for outside Snowcloak. Except in this case, he knew Lucia would probably jump at the chance to make fun of his complete ineptitude with women. To his surprise, he watched as Lucia's expression lost some of its usual hardness, and a warm smile spread across her face. She looked up, determinedly thrusting the second letter below his nose. 

"This one." Before he could ask, she cut him off, "It is the height of propriety and not at all inappropriate." Aymeric felt his shoulders relax, a sudden weight lifted. "Now please, get yourself home for at least a couple of hours of rest. I will see to it that this letter makes it to its destination before the party is due to re-enter Snowcloak." Aymeric capitulated, standing from his desk and making his way to the door. As his hand reached the doorknob, he stopped and said, "If I could promote you any more, I really would. You know that, right, old friend." He heard a scoff behind him and could only imagine the face she had pulled to accompany it. 

"That would leave me in your position _Lord Commander_. I would much rather face down a Horde alone." Aymeric's lips twitched, remembering his words from earlier, "But don't you do that everyday when facing a mirror?" 

He heard a mighty roar from behind him, and he sprung into action, swiftly turning the doorknob, passing through and shutting the door, just in time to hear something very heavy hit the place where had stood only a moment before.

Lucia, quivering furiously in the now empty room thought to herself. You - you, _cur_. I let you off far too easily. 


	5. Chapter 5

Some days later, a report arrived from Whitebrim outlining all that occurred after the events at Snowcloak. Aymeric scanned the detailed contents, his face turning darker and darker the more he read. Lucia, who had recently returned from a bout of sparring, noticing his dire expression asked what it was that he was reading. 

"A report from Lord Drilleimont." His voice snapped, his frown deepening. He squeezed his eyes shut with his thumb and forefinger before massaging his temples, then said in a gentle tone, though the sharp edge to it had not disappeared, "My apologies, I should not have.... I feel rather guilty as to how the events in Coerthas have unfolded. It was in no small part my actions, and my -"

Lucia sighed and snatched the report from his hands. From the contents, she could see what had soured her commander's mood so. Heretics slaughtered Whitebrim knights, before ambushing the Warrior of Light alone in the Boulder Downs, revealing a spy amongst the knights stationed at Whitebrim - it seemed events in the region were not playing out as expected. In addition, it seemed it was time for the Warrior of Light to re-enter Snowcloak to face whatever she had to face on the other side of that crystal. Lucia clenched her jaw, not sure how to proceed. It frustrated her at times how much he placed on his own shoulders; it seemed everyone's shame, guilt, incapability and failure, he took personal responsibility for on top of his own; but any joys of the fruits of his labour were passed onto others.  
"Lord Commander, we couldn't have predicted this." Aymeric scowled in response, very clear about his thoughts on the matter.  
Lucia continued unabated, "We could not. And we would not have been able to do anything regardless. But now that it has come to this point, we can yet make amends from this point forward. I suggest that we offer what support we can at Whitebr-"  
"What, so I am just to make excuses about how my hands are tied. I am the Lord _fucking_ Commander of the Temple Knights, matters like this are supposed to fall directly under my supervision." Lucia had very rarely heard the commander curse, her mouth shut, and her jaw clenched tighter than before. Still, in this matter there was nothing he could have done. Ishgard did not have the resources - what resources they did have were not totally at the free disposal of the Lord Commander, as everything was controlled ultimately by the Holy See - even if they had pursued the heretics without the assistance of the Scions, they were woefully ill equipped to face Primals. In some ways, they were sitting at an _advantage_ compared to what they had originally planned. However Lucia knew full well that saying any of that was fruitless. Truthfully she had no idea how to console her superior once he was in this state. 

A stagnant atmosphere overtook the silent room, Aymeric returning to other work, and Lucia revising the commander's schedule. After a time, once Lucia was hopeful Aymeric had calmed to some extent, she walked over and broached the topic of overseeing matters at Whitebrim. Aymeric, completely depleted of emotional energy, agreed in an overly polite and restrained manner, obviously supposed to compensate for his prior outburst. He shifted in his seat, discomfort and guilt plain on his face.

"We will be making our way over to Whitebrim early tomorrow. I have taken the liberty of clearing your schedule for the remainder of today and tomorrow. All important matters have been moved until after your trip to Whitebrim, and all unimportant matters such as various functions and luncheons have been cancelled or postponed." Aymeric was still eerily quiet, but he offered no resistance. He had all but slumped in his chair. Lucia suddenly thought of one other person who might be able to help in this situation, but she was completely oblivious as to his planned movements or current location. Lucia left the room, leaving Aymeric to his own brooding, planning to oversee some matters in her commander's stead at Falcon's Nest. 

On her arrival, the knights stationed there met her and discussed strange activity they had observed at the Dusk's Vigil. Though concerned, they felt it wasn't important and no aggressive Dravanian activity had been noted, they simply wished to bring it to the Lord Commander's attention, should he feel otherwise. Lucia thanked the knights, seeking refuge in one of the rooms to write a full report. Behind her, a familiar voice growled a passable greeting, however, that growl was music to Lucia's ears.  
"Estinien!" She exclaimed, jumping up from her seat and turning to face him. Apparently one can even think of the devil, and he shall appear. Estinien, sensing something complicated and troublesome, began backing toward the door. Lucia, knowing full well how elusive the man could be when he wished to, took a gamble, blurting out, "I wanted to speak with you regarding the Warrior of Light." 

The man, his expression unreadable under his armour, did, at the very least, stop. Lucia, taking this as his admission to continue, thanked the Empire for training her as a spy. Though she had long left that life behind her, if it helped to get her superior back to normal, she didn't mind using all means at her disposal.  
"What about her? And why would _you_ specifically need to speak with me about it?" The man's dry voice inquired without pause. Lucia wracked her brains. Actually, she thought, I wanted you to go and see your friend, but I'm unsure if that would pique your interest. "Ahem," She began desperately trying to think of any excuse to follow up on her lie. "I simply thought that you would be interested. We have had the pleasure of meeting her on a few occasions, and considering we _coincidentally_ met here..."  
"Was Aymeric present at these meetings?" Lucia rejoiced inwardly. It seems he had successfully taken the bait. The easiest way to deal with Estinien was undoubtably making him believe everything was his idea to begin with. Lucia nodded. With nary a word, the dragoon vanished from sight and Lucia slid back into her chair feeling more than accomplished.


	6. Chapter 6

Aymeric had settled himself in his residence by the time the Azure Dragoon arrived from Falcon's Nest. Seeing his friend suddenly show up in his window did not surprise him, despite his dining room being located on an upper floor. Without speaking, Aymeric motioned to pour a drink.  
"Not for me." Estinien grunted as he made himself at home, immediately helping himself to the steaming hot food Aymeric had been served. Inexplicably, Estinien's abrasive but consistent character eased some of the stress which had been mounting. 

"Your Second in Command mentioned to me that you had the met the Warrior of Light." Of course that would make him curious, Aymeric thought. He poured himself a drink, as his supper had been unceremoniously stolen from under him, and settled himself across the table from Estinien. A far cry from a few days ago, Aymeric felt guilt wrack through his body whenever he thought of her, or the Scions. They had been so forthright with their information and assistance, and yet I had done nothing but behave in all the ways I detested most, Aymeric thought to himself miserably. 

"Not in the mood for a chat? Unfortunately I'm hardly ever in the mood, and you make me do it, so I'm not sympathetic." Aymeric grudgingly shot Estinien an amused look. For someone so opposed to conversation, he was truly leading this one. With a sigh, Aymeric launched into a full explanation. How he had requested a meeting with Master Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light, and the events that followed. 

"I only asked about the Warrior of Light. But knowing you, I imagine you're wallowing in self-pity about all the things you _could_ or _couldn't_ have done. Let it go. I don't see how anything you did or said wasn't advantageous to all. It isn't as if the Keeper of the Lake is a matter that shouldn't concern them. And from what I've heard, they love sending their Champion in to battle Primals."

Aymeric frowned. I suppose what Estinien had said was true, however indelicately phrased. The fact remained that Ishgard had been the one to risk less, for greater gain, even if there were gains to be had on each side. He loved his nation, but manipulation and coercion were not his choice methods. He hadn't been sure he could secure the help of the Scions without it, but after the fact he felt he had violated his own values. 

Aymeric realised the dragoon in front of him had all but finished "his" meal. I suppose, considering he had certainly cheered him up, Estinien deserved to hear what he came for. "More phenomenal than anything I could have imagined from what I'd been told." Aymeric stated, despondent. Estinien seemed pleased with the response, though Aymeric imagined Estinien had interpreted his words completely differently to their intent. Estinien seemed hungry for more - information on the Warrior of Light, not free food.  
"What can I say? We've only had the pleasure but a handful of times. I still have yet to see her battle in person." Estinien seemed to deflate significantly at his words. "Perhaps you will have the opportunity to meet soon, if matters in Mor Dhona regarding the Wyrm escalate. Though I do not wish for such danger upon the citizens of Revenant's Toll nor the Scions."  
"Pretty sure she can handle it." Aymeric looked questioningly across the table, but no follow up left the dragoon's mouth. Instead, he stood up, and left as unceremoniously as he had come. 

Typical. Nonethless, Aymeric felt significantly better, and it was always good to see his friend, who so very rarely visited. He gulped down the remainder of his wine, and turned in for an early night. 


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, Lucia cautiously tiptoed into the Lord Commander's office. Aymeric had not noticed her entering. She scanned his face and posture before she felt a wave of relief wash over her - it seems Estinien had mitigated the worst of it. She stood to attention and greeted the commander firmly. He looked up from his work, hastily placing his quill into his ink pot and rising from his seat, "Ah. Lucia, let us be off then."

Some time later, the pair arrived at Whitebrim. They made directly for the Fort's administrative area, Lucia casting her eyes around the courtyard before entering; the tension in the atmosphere was palpable, the knights standing unusually vigil, and the group of Scions in the vincinity of the Aetheryte grim-faced. Inside, Lord Drilleimont performed customary greetings before availing the commander of everything he knew. The situation hadn't changed at all from the one they had read of yesterday - save that the Warrior of Light and her companions had disappeared through the teleportation crystal and had yet to return. According to Drilleimont, many hours had passed, and worry had begun to mount - Master Alphinaud had revealed that no Primal battle the Warrior of Light had faced prior had ever lasted so long. There was nothing for them to do but watch and wait. Lucia noticed, crestfallen, that the commander's hand, which had been hanging at his side, was clenched tightly, his knuckles white, though she could discern no perceptible changes to his expression or his voice. The commander instead launched into discussion regarding the heretic infiltration, and exact details into how they had located the spy. He seemed unconvinced that sufficient measures had been taken to ensure there were no other traitors, and began detailing to Lord Drilleimont as to how he would like him to proceed. Lucia pitied the Lord; she was fairly sure that they had done all there was to do, and her superior was simply acting out of regret. However, she kept to her thoughts to herself, as a thorough search through the rank and file could not hurt - at worst it could simply be redundant, at best, perhaps they could identify dissenters or even heretics. 

Once the commander was satisfied that he had covered all he wanted to, he bowed his head, before leaving the building and stationing himself outside, arms crossed, snow immediately settling in his hair. Lucia followed suit, resting her back against the wall adjacent to her superior. She looked over to Master Leveilleur, who had his one arm crossed over his body, hand gripping his side, his other tugging nervously at the collar of his coat. While she was in the midst of her observation, the young man shot a venemous look in their direction. Lucia felt startled - the look was brief, merely a glance - but it was certainly hostile. She peeked out of the corner of her eye to the man at her right; it didn't look like he had noticed, his eyes misted over in thought. 

  


It was true that Aymeric was completely oblivious to anything going on around him. Lucia and Estinien had been quite right, he told himself ruefully; he could not change what he had done, only what he would do in future. Agonizing over what could have been is simply not conducive. For someone who was so well known for his highly practical and realistic outlook, he knew that it was a never ending battle against his own self-deprecation and self-blame. When he brought himself out of the situation, objectively, he understood very well the limitations of himself, of his position, what outside forces worked for, and against his objectives. But - a wry smile escaping his lips - emotions tend to interfere with objective thought. He had developed a habit of severing his emotions whenever there was work to be done - even his love for Ishgard was buried deep in his heart - so that he could touch the true reality of the situation and approach with a clear and logical perspective. But he was, after all, a living, breathing person; if something tipped his emotions over the edge, everything he had sought so hard to lock away would come rushing out at once, and he was very prone to getting completely lost in them. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, mist materialising in the air in front of his lips. Aymeric steeled himself, feeling the lock click shut once more, the fire in his heart, all but snuffed out. Aymeric de Borel had once more regained full rational control of all his faculties.

  


Lucia wasn't sure how long it was they stood there in the snow. From the way the sky had lightened, then darkened, she guessed it must have been mid afternoon when they finally heard the shout from the ramparts. Not five minutes later a triumphant group of people appeared at the gates of the Fort, many crowded around them for congratulations. The atmosphere was infectious and Lucia was filled with elation; she knew she wasn't close enough with any of the people there to join in, but she really wanted to! She kept casting impatient glances at her superior, but he maintained his position, waiting patiently, the snow piled up comically on his hair and long Elezen ears. The Warrior of Light, a tall female Roegadyn Lucia did not recognise, and the Master Alphinaud, had split off from the main group, and began talking between themselves. The commander finally moved forwards, Lucia following, both standing politely to the side of the three. When they turned to face us, the commander formally congratulated the Scions for their victory against the Primal. He remained for a short time, imploring the group to make their way to Camp Dragonhead, as he was sure Lord Haurchefaunt was besides himself without news from them. After they agreed to his suggestion, he smiled warmly, spun on his heel, and made his way toward the gates of Whitebrim. Lucia nodded politely to the group, and caught up with his retreating figure.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the eyes of our fair Warrior of Light followed the pair, particularly the tall black haired Elezen, feeling disappointed about their prompt departure, her fingers subconsciously flicking the edges of a letter she had tucked between two pages of her Codex. 

As Lucia caught up with Aymeric, she asked him curiously, "Is that all we plan to discuss with the Scions?" Aymeric looked over to her, his face measured and calm, "Yes. They all deserve rest for today. But I would like you to make your way to Camp Dragonhead before returning to Ishgard. Please arrange with Lord Haurchefaunt for another meeting - the same room as the last would be fitting."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter is a bit dour. I felt it was important to set the correct atmosphere for everything going on at that point in time. I don't know how many people still remember back in late ARR times, but that was the build up to the HW story, so I felt it was quite tense, and that's an important backdrop for everything that comes after.

Lucia walked alone once the commander turned towards the Gates of Judgement. They had spent the whole day standing stationary in the snow and her legs and lower back were aching. It did seem the commander was back to his usual self, but Lucia was once again reminded how he was never able to do anything in parts. His conversation with the Scions had been so dispassionate; he said and did everything exactly the way he should, down to the exact angle of his bow. She thought it was a shame - sometimes (however much it irked her) one could see his boyish side surfacing, but it was rare. Most of the time he looked to be so taught and strained, like the string to an over pulled bow. The few days before his outburst, he had seemed more chirp - more natural. But following the events at Whitebrim, his life had returned to its usual colourlessness - the ever steadfast Knight, sacrificing himself and his own happiness for a dream to bring joy to people who may never even know what part he played in it. Or in fact, may never even come to fruition, Lucia added morbidly. She knew it was the same sense of responsibility and honour that drove her, however she didn't feel the loneliness that seemed to characterise her superior. He let people in for the most brief of instances, before pushing them away again. She dropped her face to the floor, feeling resigned. Well, she would always be there for him, at least. And Estinien too, when the wind pleased him.

As she walked into the hall at Camp Dragonhead, she saw Lord Haurchefaunt currently absorbed in conversation with one of his knights. His eyes shot to the door when she entered, pursing his lips when he realised it was not the group he had been waiting for. Lucia greeted him, before passing on the Lord Commander's orders. Haurchefaunt's face had relaxed visibly when he heard the Scions would shortly be making their way to Camp Dragonhead.  
"Please, you look exhausted, and there's much food and cheer to be had here, especially as our bearer of good tidings. If you make your way to the kitchens, get yourself some hot soup. Even if you don't plan to stay here tonight."  
Lucia found herself wishing for a moment that she was a subordinate of the Lord of this fort - he's so kind and generous, and brings a positive lilt to every room he inhabits. Apparently, judging from the starry eyed glances from the female knights in the room (and one of the men too), she guessed quite a few might feel that way, and possibly a little more, about the Lord. Leaving the room, she quite agreed that the only way she was going to make it back to Ishgard tonight was if she filled her stomach, and warmed her limbs. 

After her meal was over, feeling much better, she headed out the gates towards Ishgard. The snow showed no signs of letting up, and she found herself wishing she had rented a chocobo for what should have been a short journey. As she made the turn at the junction, she saw a jovial party in the distance, barely visible over the blizzard. They were all laughing between themselves, one of them even running into the thick snow off the road, picking up a snowball, and throwing it into the group. The weight of her steps felt lighter as she looked away and continued her journey. It was.... nice, for lack of a better word - she didn't know how they could all behave that way after felling only one of the most terrifying of opponents, but it seemed appropriate somehow. Like they were truly making the most of their lives. Perhaps those faced with the most hardship were the best at picking themselves back up. Or maybe they were just lucky enough to find companionship in those that could shrug off their trials with good company and a positive outlook. She shook her head. She wasn't quite sure, but whatever it was, she was sure it was part of why they were able to do what they did, day after day. 

When Lucia reached Ishgard, she decided to go straight to her quarters; as much as she knew she should check on the Lord Commander, she was chilled to the bone. She needed a hot bath, and some more hot soup. Ishgardian soup - that Coerthan soup was far too bland for her tastes. 

Much the same time Lucia was dreaming about her hot soup and hot bath, Aymeric was seated at his desk. Today had been stressful - he had succeeded in putting a lid on his emotions, but it came with a tax. Yet he worked like a madman, once more making his way through the papers piled up on his desk until they were no more. Once that was over, he cast his mind to the problem with the Scions; the Keeper of the Lake was an imminent threat to both Ishgard and Revenant's Toll, but try as he might to convince them otherwise, the See didn't think it pertinent to redirect resources to lands outside of Ishgard's borders. This puzzled him somewhat, as were the Wyrm to awaken, it would undoubtably make its way here. The wards surrounding Ishgard were powerful, but he didn't know if it was enough to hold back a legendary Wyrm like Midgardsormr - at the very least there would be significant loss of life. He closed his eyes, his eyebrows pinching into a pained expression. He really needed the Scions help - and the Warrior of Light. But if Master Alphinaud is anything like he has proven himself to be, he has probably already realised that we have avoided the offer of any return for their assistance at every turn. Assistance which put them into the path of great danger. Aymeric was sure the boy was not a fool; eventually he is going to demand something in return, and there was precious little he could offer, considering the Holy See were so adamant about not joining the Eorzean Alliance. Even the Calamity itself didn't change their stance on opening their borders, so Aymeric held little hope for pursuading them. 

He sighed. The meeting with the Scions was due to be scheduled for tomorrow - he could think of one tactic he could use to secure a tenuous alliance with them, but he was very aware how awful it sounded. If he had to, for the sake of Ishgard, he would, but he really wished he had something else. To begin, he could ensure the supplies House Fortemps were providing to the refugees at Revenant's Toll could continue - his status as the Lord Commander could secure that much. However, he knew it wasn't enough. Should they find alternative sources for their supplies, or the refugees should find their way back to wherever they had come, they would find themselves without anything to offer. The only other leverage he could pull, was to point out the eventuality of Ishgard falling. Halone forbid it, it was an extreme outcome, but it was a possibility all the same. He was aware that the Empire had been a thorn in the side of the Alliance and the Scions often in the recent past. There was a chance that they would be more receptive to an imminent threat from the Empire. If Ishgard were to fall, it would leave empty lands adjacent to Revenant's Toll. With the Castrum situated to their West already, another of the Empire's Legions pushing from their North would likely pose highly troublesome - indeed, Revenant's Toll would probably fall into the Empire's hands, from which they could push into Gridania. As theoretical as it was, as a commander himself, he felt it was at least probable that that would be the Empire's exact thoughts - should Ishgard fall. Painting that picture would certainly make it seem in the Scions' - or even the Alliances' best interests to assist Ishgard. 

Aymeric sighed again, even more deeply, this time his hands covering his face as he tipped his neck backwards. He still hated all of it. But maybe it could work, he thought as he slid down in his chair, dropped his hands from his face and looked back towards the desk in front of him. Perhaps it was time he was more honest with them too; there was no shame in admitting that his power within Ishgard had bounds within the theocratical hierarchy. And perhaps offering Lucia's assistance a little more close to home would do greatly to secure familiarity between them. He was simply going to have to handle matters within Ishgard without her for a time. She hadn't always been by his side, after all. He just hoped the Scions were able to recognize the gesture for the sacrifice it was to him. Even if they didn't, perhaps it would help him rest more easily. With that, he rose from his chair, and made his way to his residence. 


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, the skies were clear - in fact, Lucia didn't think she had seen such a clear day in Ishgard for years. The weather was still brisk as she paced across the stoney streets, but she could feel a tinge of warmth from the sun's rays on her skin. She could see from afar that the commander was waiting for her outside - she presumed they were to set off for Camp Dragonhead right away. "Lord Commander." she greeted with a nod as she neared him. He turned towards her at the sound of her voice, returned the gesture, and began walking to meet her. 

The trip to Camp Dragonhead was what Lucia could only describe as the most pleasant morning stroll after the blizzard she had fought through mere hours before. As they passed the familiar view of the Churning Mists which lay underneath the Steps of Faith, looking particularly dazzling with their sunny tipped sheen, the commander availed her of all his thoughts on how to proceed with the Scions going forward. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise when he mentioned his plans to station her at Revenant's Toll as a liaison.  
"But," she didn't know where to begin, her mind reeling. Exasperated at her sudden lack of verbosity, she simply stated, "Work." The commander inclined his head towards her, a slight smile on his lips, "Before there was the Lord Commander and his faithful Second-In-Command, there was only the Lord Commander. I'll find a way." His expression shifted again, turning serious, "It is somewhat driven by my own selfishness - but I want to feel I have at least extended my sincerity to the Scions." His voice grew stronger and more pointed as he said, "Nothing would be more sincere than sending you." Lucia felt pride welling up in her chest from his words. Well, if that's what he has decided, I will do my damnest to live up to his expectation, she thought. She was never as far thinking as the commander - but she was loyal to his vision. If he thought her being away was best, then that is where she would go.  
"Aymeric, " she didn't often address him by name, but she felt this was coming from her as a friend, not as a subordinate, "I'm glad to see you back on your feet. And... Take care of yourself while I'm away." 

  


As they made their way into the Intercessory, Aymeric felt the atmosphere quite strained when compared to the last time they stood in the room. Nonetheless, amicable greetings proceeded apace. Although he had expected it, he was once more impressed by Alphinaud - nothing had slipped his attention - he outright berated Ishgard for their actions. While Aymeric knew that it wouldn't be the optimal tactic against most, he felt relieved, absolved even. Alphinaud certainly had a keen eye, and an even keener intellect. Without any regret, Aymeric laid himself bare to his audience; following the events at Whitebrim and Snowcloak, rather than earned his trust, he felt the people in that room were ones he would be lucky to win as allies. If they decided it was not in their best interests to assist him after hearing all he had to say, then at the very least he knew it wasn't out of any greed or self interest. 

Some time later, Aymeric said his goodbyes to Lucia, who would now make her way to Revenant's Toll, frankly feeling more accomplished than he had in quite some time. It was a small victory, but yet still a victory. The Scions had agreed to investigate the wreck of the Agrius. He felt a small twinge of guilt though - they would undoubtably be sending their Champion again. The entire meeting, he had avoided her eyes. He had thought he convinced himself that all he felt for her was admiration, however, the feel of her gaze on him during the conversation had made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. That isn't exactly how admiration should feel, he stated to himself. If it was attraction, he needed to put it aside. It isn't as if he could be so inconsiderate as to effectively beg her to risk her life and limb for a city that wouldn't even accept her through the gates, only to harbour such base emotions, no - instincts, in return. 

He shook his head, his good mood unfortunately short-lived. He was nearly at the gates to Camp Dragonhead. Just one last look, he thought to himself. I'm not sure if I'll ever see her again besides; from this point forward, Lucia would be the one who remains in closest contact with the Scions. He stopped and turned, casting his eyes back across the courtyard but found she had already gone. Aymeric felt a small pang of loss. Perhaps this would simply be a brief feeling that would go as quickly as it came. He hoped so.

  


Lucia followed behind the Scions as the group made their way South to Revenant's Toll. She used the opportunity to cast interested glances at the people she now found herself party to. Of course, the majority of her interest was focused on the Warrior of Light. Her soft pale skin struck Lucia as odd, considering she was well aware of her occupation. How does one even manage to maintain such an appearance when so often on the road or in battle? Once you looked past her intimidating reputation, she actually seemed... Kind of sweet. She wondered if this is what Aymeric saw in her when all Lucia could think at the time was how bloody terrifying she was. She seemed very, how should I put it, in her own skin, Lucia thought. Despite being quiet, the atmosphere around her was comfortable; the majority of the group were mostly talking between themselves (save herself and the Warrior of Light), but she seemed to join parts of the others' conversation seamlessly, despite her looking only a moment before like she was lost in her own unfathomable musings. There certainly was an intensity to her though - when she shifted her attention to something around her, it was sharp, like it could cut through steel, but then there was some sort of opposing gentleness which tempered the blade. Thinking about it was agonizing - but she couldn't help being completely fascinated by this young lady, who not only carried a formidable slew of achievements, but had caught the sight of her friend. He had never so much as shown any interest - that nature of interest - in anyone around him before (and not for want of choice, with the endless gaggle of ladies vying for his attention); so to select such an unusual, and complicated individual such as the Warrior of Light intrigued her.  
She felt a little defeated though - she didn't think the commander was destined to act on any of his impulses. His entire being was completely composed of some unidentified matter which compelled him to reject anything that might be construed as self-indulgence. And she was fairly sure romantic or even physical interest probably classified as self-indulgent to him - it was difficult enough for him to take a break to sleep, as I'm sure deep down he probably thought that an unnecessary obstacle too. 

In the midst of her thoughts, Lucia suddenly realised that the Warrior of Light had cast her eyes towards her; the cutting gaze seemed uncomfortably intrusive, like she could somehow elucidate everything Lucia had been thinking about. Which was obviously preposterous, despite it still startling her. But the atmosphere softened almost immediately afterwards. She hung back slightly from her companions and fell in step beside Lucia.  
"So you are a Knight of Ishgard?" she asked.  
The two enjoyed a pleasant conversation - Lucia felt herself lulled into comfort. She's so friendly, she thought. She seemed interested - in her as a person, in Ishgard, and what it was like; apparently she had heard snatches of information from the Coerthans, but she wanted to hear Lucia's views all the same. She seemed to absorb all the information given to her, weighing it carefully, and truly considering it before giving a response, or following up with another question. All the while never seeming chatty or overbearing. After a time, Lucia, never having been the greatest at keeping conversation flowing, fell into silence. The Warrior of Light followed suit, but the resulting atmosphere was calm, and she found herself feel welcome in the group of travellers. 

The journey to Revenant's Toll was short - aided in large part by the clear weather. When they arrived, they were immediately rushed by a group of children. Lucia was, of course, aware of the refugee situation, however, the smiling faces of the children around her wasn't exactly what she had been expecting. One of them even ran immediately to the Warrior of Light and beckoned to her. She bent down so that her face was level with the small boy, and he whispered something into her ears. She whispered something back, before the boy cried out, "Gimme five minutes" accompanied by his hand stretched out to her face, his fingers splayed outwards to denote the number. She rose back to her full height, chuckling gently, before casting her eyes back to Lucia, "Please, if you would excuse me. I think I'm about to face my most trying opponent yet." 

Truly. The most fascinating person she had ever met.


	10. Chapter 10

Aymeric felt his face pull taught as he examined the man who had stopped him in his tracks. With Lucia in Revenant's Toll, he had been seeing to matters personally around the city. As he was making his way down a deserted alley on his return to his office, he felt a strong grip on his shoulder. He swung around sharply, his hand almost making for his sword, before freezing in place. In front of him stood his friend, donned in his full set of black Draken armour, looking especially grim. While grim was exactly the word usually used to describe Estinien at the best of times, after so many years of having known him, Aymeric could immediately tell something was wrong. And knowing his friend, that list was shortened to one or two possibilities, neither of which were anything that could be considered good news.  
Estinien's signature growl echoed against the stone walls surrounding them, "Nidhogg has called upon his brood."  
Aymeric took a deep breath, resolve flooding through him. As bad as the implications his friend's words cast, the concept of imminent war with Dragonkind was not something that either of the pair - or in fact any Ishgardian - were not intimate with. Aymeric had reached his position as Lord Commander, not only through diligence and conscientiousness, but also because he possessed a quick and decisive mind in matters of military command. Without a word, he turned towards his office, his pace brisk and determined. 

As Aymeric seated himself in his chair, Estinien planted his feet resolutely in front of the desk, his shoulders squared, his arms folded to his chest. Aymeric's elbow came to rest on the desk, his finger thumbing his chin while his knuckles met the top of his lip, a marked frown on his face as he looked to his friend. He wasn't entirely sure why Estinien had followed him. Stationing of the knights, battle plans, rosters; urgent though they were in the face of the resurgence from the Dravanians, these were all matters the Azure Dragoon usually had no part in - his unique position meant that he largely had free reign over his own movements.  
"The Archbishop? Heaven's Ward?" Aymeric asked, as the silence dragged on.  
"Informed. Daniffen's Collar has stood for millennia against those savage beasts. I share the Archbishop's sentiment - Nidhogg's brood will only serve as pitiless sacrifices against our dragoons."  
Aymeric's frown deepened. If that was all he had to say, there was obviously another reason for Estinien's presence. Despite his workload having increased tenfold as of five minutes prior, Aymeric waited patiently for the dragoon to continue. He seemed hesitant - a characteristic which was not one usually associated with the man in front of him.  
  
Estinien drew a breath, holding it in place before continuing, "Aymeric. The air wasn't right. I know I had the Wyrm's call roaring in my ears. But I'm more than used to recognising. Bloodlust. Hatred. Pain. And there was also... a sickly miasma."  
This is not like him, Aymeric thought to himself. He seemed strained, indecisive. "Aren't those the same emotions you say drives Nidhogg?"  
"The source wasn't the Wyrm." Estinien stated firmly.  
The Azure Dragoon dipped his head marginally, his lips pursed. After a time, he growled, a particularly harsh edge to it, "That's all I wanted to tell you." With that, he turned to leave the room.  
  
"Wait." Aymeric's voice called before Estinien made it to the door, "I need you at Dragonhead two days from today." He hesitated before continuing, "As for what you've said, I'll think on it, friend."  
The shadow of a smile crossed Estinien's stony features before he made his way out, the door cluttering shut at his exit, his steps slightly lighter than before.

Despite all he had sat down at his desk to do, Aymeric found himself jarred into inaction by Estinien's unusual mood. Estinien isn't the type to be thrown by anything, he thought. In his opinion, Nidhogg and him were a match made by the Heavens; that bloodlust, hatred, and pain that Estinien had once described to him, seemed very familiar, the reflection cast in the same eyes of the man who had told him about the emotions of the Wyrm. His obsessive nature wasn't one to drive him to dwell, or _hesistate_.  
But what could he have meant? While Aymeric secretly held many reservations about his father, and openly, many reservations about the Heaven's Ward, they were problems of ideals clashing, not any kind of insidious play. They did after all, signify the absolute reverence to Halone, and the theocracy of Ishgard. Absolute belief, dogmatism, fanaticism; yes, these were words that described the Archbishop and his inner circle, however, their belief was steadfast, and it was clear they viewed it as pure and _correct_. He truly believed they only had the best of intentions in their leadership of the nation.

Nonetheless, Estinien's words had unsettled him. He swallowed, a nervousness creeping up through from his chest into his throat. Right at this moment, he had no reason to make a visit to the Archbishop, and there were many matters he needed to attend to, so unfortunately, he was going to have to put these thoughts on hold. 

Meanwhile, in another nation, Lucia was waiting nervously in the Rising Stones. She had unwittingly become quite attached to those around her, despite having only been there for a short amount of time. The moment she had arrived, even as an outsider: Tataru had fussed over her lodgings like a mother hen; Alphinaud, with his impeccable demeanour, bordering on pomposity, had come to check in on her periodically to ensure she was comfortable (also, surprisingly reminiscent of a mother hen); the Crystal Braves stationed there often shared meals and drinks with her, so she never felt lonely or out of place. So the source of her discomfort wasn't at all where she found herself, or the company she was in.  
No. For all her previously held beliefs about the importance of her position in Ishgard and the seemingly insurmountable walls her and her superior faced, the nonsense the Scions seemed to deal with on a daily basis bordered on the absurd. Over the course of her stay, she had heard many stories, more of the first hand type. The foes they had taken on ( _oh you know, the normal_ , she thought sarcastically - multiple Primals, entire Garlean legions and Magitek, weapons of literal untold destruction, Ascians); the figures they often found themselves party to - Sharlayan scholars, leaders of great nations, geniuses such as the famous Cid nan Garlond, who Lucia hadn't heard head or tails of for years. The list seemed to get more and more ludicrous the further down you got. She was no longer under any illusion as to how the Warrior of Light and her companions could face what they had faced and yet still be so full of cheer, or be so comfortable in almost anyone's presence, all titles notwithstanding; they had faced worse. Or at least equally as terrible. And the notion of stumbling into some Legend or other seemed fairly natural to them too.

She shook her head sharply; dedicating herself to one nation was more than enough for her liking. Let's leave saving the world to the professionals - who were all inexplicably perfectly normal and reasonable people otherwise. Their power was almost certainly only limited by their unwillingness to use their combined skills for exploitative or evil purposes. But regardless, Lucia was worried for them. The Warrior of Light had left only an hour before for the wreck of the Agrius, as if she were leaving to the market to buy eggs. She had slung her battle coat over her shoulder, leaning down to pick up a stray piece of litter on the ground, and artfully throwing it into a nearby dustbin, nodding triumphantly at her feat, before wandering out the door, casting a brief smile and nod to Lucia.  
Staying around the Scions was going to be death of her, Lucia thought. Not that she felt unsafe or anything of the like - just that her heart would give out from shock.

As she was lost in her thoughts, a female Miqo'te Lucia had come to know as F'lhaminn took a seat in the bar stool near her. Her pink eyes shone as she smiled widely to Lucia. "Are you doing alright, dear?" she asked.  
Lucia, who would usually mask her emotions, especially in the presence of those she didn't know well, hesitated before answering, an unintentional line of worry creasing her brow. "I was sent here to assist the Scions, not sit around eating and sleeping."  
F'lhaminn smiled again, before dropping her eyes to her hands. "I worry too. I think everyone here worries more than they show. Although Alphinaud is pretty bad at hiding it." She giggled and looked back up to Lucia as she finished. It was true - ever since the Scions left their meeting room in the morning, Alphinaud had taken up a spot on one of the couches and had not moved. A single inch, or eyebrow, or arm, or anything. At first glance, perhaps you might think he was fine, but it was extremely unnatural to stay so still for so long. Wait, Lucia thought, how did F'lhaminn know I was worried?  
As if reading her thoughts, F'lhaminn continued, "I'm not a warrior or a knight like you. So I am oft to find myself alone here whilst they all go risking their lives. The more dangerous the opponent, the more of us left here waiting, it seems." F'lhaminn rose and made to the other side of the counter, fixing up a drink for them both. "I think it's important. To give people a place to come home to - a place where they know there are those who care for them."

Lucia capitulated, her body slumping in her chair and her head hanging lower. Is that really all she could do, she thought glumly. Lucia cast her mind back to the party of adventurers that left in good spirits to the Agrius. "And the Warrior of Light? Somehow worry doesn't seem like something that would fit within her vocabulary."  
F'lhaminn's gentle features warped for a moment, her hand suspended in the air on their quest for mugs. Her smile turned to a grimace.  
"She-" F'lhaminn's mouth closed again, apparently searching for the right words, her eyes meeting Lucia's.  
"I don't know her very well, and I worry for her most of all. She seems happy, makes jokes, gets along with others, but... She has never complained, you know. In all their battles, it was she who held the front line, sometimes all alone. And yet when she is asked to go out once more, she just..."  
F'lhaminn's words stopped. She clenched her jaw and continued to pour their drinks, passing one over to Lucia. Lucia took it gratefully, taking a sip. Hot chocolate! Her eyebrows shot up at the sweet calming taste; it did wonders for her nerves.  
F'lhaminn smiled again, her features relaxing as she observed Lucia. "I hope one day she can find her home. It can't be easy, always being everyone's shining Light."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long :( 
> 
> My ISP messed up, so I haven't had internet for a while and I couldn't log on to do some detail checks. It's here now though \o/


	11. Chapter 11

Lucia felt relief flood through her as she looked towards the familiar back of her superior, currently staring up at the Twelve only knows what, his hands clasped behind his back. He seemed to have somehow remained intact in her absence.  
At the sounds of the snow crunching at her feet at her arrival, he turned. On closer inspection, she realised he looked even more haggard than usual - though one would need to know the commander very well to be able to tell; there were small red veins peaking out from the edges of his eyes, threatening to snake their way across the whites of his eyes; his usually well groomed hair lay dull upon his head, and Lucia wouldn't be surprised to find a stray split end or two. She sighed inwardly - perhaps not as intact as she'd thought.

"Anything the matter?" she asked, gesturing to the section of wall he'd been so studiously analyzing, "With the walls?"  
He turned, stepping back to stand at her side. His hand came up to point at a section of the battlement.  
"You see that section over there. The mortar has come loose - I'm not sure if you're aware, but mortar is supposed to harden with age. Mayhap the original artisans were careless in their construction."  
One of her eyebrows perked up at its edge, "And this is important because...?"  
Aymeric titled his head toward her, before proceeding with his explanation, "Estinien dropped in for a visit - not a social call this time. Ishgard is to be at war again. It will put many of our plans on hold for the time being, but safety of the people is, as always, my top priority."  
Lucia felt prickles of apprehension at his words. She was not as accustomed as the Ishgardians regarding battle with Dragonkind. Though she had traversed many a battlefield, fighting those beasts was. Something else. Their claws were sharp, carried by strong sinewy limbs, and guided by the intelligence and experience of ones who outlived most beings. They were voracious, savage, and burned with desperate blood lust as they tore, ripped, bit and slashed. Aymeric had once told her that they responded to the calls of their sires, and in some part reflected the emotions of the one who had called upon them. Lucia couldn't even imagine what kind of emotions might drive a being into such a frenzy of unbridled violence.  
The commander shifted his weight beside her, obviously oblivious to her wondering; she found it bizarre how the residents of Ishgard were all so blasé about war, and the death that accompanied it. She supposed at some point, it must simply become second nature - so ingrained in them and their society, it was as common as taking an evening stroll, or inviting someone over for tea. Not that it was universal; though Aymeric couldn't escape the trend in its entirety, he had been making strides towards curbing needless loss of life, and more rigourous policy of compensation for the families of those lost in battle. Prior to Aymeric taking his post, there were far too many cases of soldiers lost in battle - their families initially lauded with honour and praise - before being cast aside, their already humble livelihood stretched to its limits. Praise and a mark on a remembrance placard does not, unfortunately, pay for food and lodging quite as well as the supply of gold from Ishgard's military coffers. He had also made significant strides in reorganisation of the support structures surrounding their active combatants; Lucia was proud to admit she had played quite a large role in this - the Empire had well defined layers to their armies and she had discussed them at length with her superior. Supplying food, intelligence, and medical support from the rear was just as important in the well oiled machines of war; Ishgard had been surprisingly archaic in their approach before, apparently relying far more on individual heroism and brute force. 

Lucia's thoughts were interrupted as her commander pointedly cleared his throat beside her.  
"And.. Um. How fared the Scions?"  
His voice sounded strained, and the edge of Lucia's lips pulled into a smirk. From his exaggerated expression of heartfelt but distant concern, Lucia knew it to be feigned. _Ha!_ She thought. _As if I'll let you off this time_. Besides (a flicker of genuine care for her superior surfacing) perhaps he needs a small push, if not simply for her own amusement.  
"The Warrior of Light?"  
His body stiffened, much to Lucia's satisfaction at having correctly surmised the true intention behind his words. However, she wasn't entirely sure how she wanted to proceed with answering him; if she was being serious, the only answer she could give him in all honesty, was that she didn't know. She was certainly alive and well, of course - the party had returned quite triumphantly, once again, following their excursion into the Agrius - but as for how she was, Lucia had come to realise that even with her sharp knack for reading people, she was quite unable to break through the veil of the unfathomable Warrior. Not for lack of trying, mind you. After speaking to F'lhaminn, she had found herself more and more concerned with the young woman, and her state of mind.  
But... Coming back to our previous point, she wasn't here to be serious, she was here to take a dig at her friend.  
"Why don't you ask her? I gather she's disappeared inside to greet Lord Haurchefaunt. They are rather close." She lingered on the last word longer than necessary. Aymeric's hand came up to ruffle the hair on the back of his head, dipping his neck forwards as he did so. Lucia was now slightly more capable of handling the surprise brought forth from the touch of colour painting his cheeks. She cocked her head, her hair flicking as she did so, now absolutely reveling in the reaction she had pulled from her hapless friend.  
He cleared his throat again, before lifting his face. "It's not important." Lucia was skeptical. "Really.." Aymeric insisted, closing his eyes with a sigh, "Nothing more than passing concern for someone who has already done a lot for Ishgard."

**********

It was not mere concern, of course. Despite his constant self-castigation, he had royally failed in pushing the young woman's image from his eyes. In fact, yesterday, as his steward had laid out samples of attire from a local weaver, he had very uncharacteristically picked out a red silk shirt from amongst them. He never wore red. The colour was so characteristically her though - to him at least. Her hair, to all others, might just look brown - but the sheen of underlying warm tones only heightened his fascination in all the details that surfaced the more you looked. Her eyes, again, brown at first glance, had those flecks of gold, making the surrounding areas in her eyes look almost crimson. Not quite like fire - it was deeper, more comfortable, like the last glorious flash of colour in a phenomenal sunset, a portend to the tranquility of night to follow. He added affectionately that the comparison suited her so well; though she carved her name in blood, her passing blinding and bright, she left nothing but better in her wake. Noticing his feelings once more erring too far on the side of danger, he stepped through the doors into the Intercessory, pushing them from his mind.

As he had previously put so much effort into doing, he avoided casting a glance at the fair scholar, and instead set his mind solely on his diplomatic objectives. However, as the familiar dragoon walked through the door to join them at Aymeric's call, he felt a prick of annoyance at Estinien's excessively preferential attention directed on her. He knew Estinien was prone to obsessiveness, but he would infinitely prefer it directed elsewhere, even if Estinien was most likely only pining for her battle proficiency. Aymeric felt a revolting emotion rise up from his chest as he noted the spring to his step, and the exuberant grin threatening to invade his stony features. He gritted his teeth - was he the only man so set on restraining himself. In a rare moment of defiance against his better judgement, he looked to her. If he had been concerned before, nothing could quite describe what he was feeling now: her eyes looked foggy, but not pensive; physically, she was there in the room, her eyes following the conversation, her head dipping politely at his friend's greeting. But there was a permeating cloud of discomfort cutting her off from everything around her. He swallowed with some difficulty, his eyes refusing to move from her face.  
Aymeric's part for the remainder of the conversation was not quite as involved as he would have liked - luckily, Estinien was more than happy to step into the role, suddenly turning far more chatty and jovial than usual, as he gleefully rolled on the back of his heels throughout his explanation of Nidhogg's call and what it would mean for Ishgard. 

The trio left the room, Lucia hanging back from the pair of old friends.

********

Estinein was obviously still brimming with excitement as they walked. Unusual, Lucia thought; though she couldn't claim to know him well, she was probably one of only a handful of people on speaking terms with the battle-obsessed man. He seemed to enjoy little else past training to kill things, and actually killing things. But Lucia supposed it was because he had come into contact with the Warrior of Light - there was no chance the stories of her valour hadn't piqued his interest. She hoped it didn't extend past that though - for the sake of Aymeric who would probably stand no chance, at least in terms of speed of pursuit. Estinien certainly seemed like the type to take a maximum of two (gruff) sentences to express his interest in something, or someone, consequences be damned. Whereas we will all probably have to wait for constellations to align before Aymeric defeats the brainchild(s) responsible for his restraint.

"She is just as tantalising as I thought she'd be." Lucia heard Estinien growl from ahead of her. Aymeric swung his shoulders in Estinien's direction as they walked, a strained smile on his lips.

Aymeric coughed. "Isn't she just?" He hesistated, "You don't think anything was - strange? She seemed out of sorts compared with our previous meetings."

"I wasn't there." Estinien hissed, apparently lamenting the fact he hadn't been. But then obviously had a sudden thought - his face flicking up to Aymeric's, the glint of the sun on his canines showing through, "I should ask her to fight. I want to see her fight anyway, and it cheers me up, so should work for her too." He spun on his heel, obviously determined to follow through on his absurdity... Before a strong hand yanked on his shoulder. 

"You will _not._ " Lucia felt like laughing when she heard the slight vehemence in Aymeric's voice as the words snapped from his mouth.

Estinien, not used to being forcibly restrained, made an effort to keep walking - but Aymeric, who was certainly a lot stronger than he looked, hooked his fingers through a flap on his shoulder pad, pulling until the dragoon's feet slid along the snow. Aymeric released some of the pressure, upsetting the dragoon's balance, before giving a final heave. Estinien's hands and one leg came up in front of him comically, while the rest of his body went flying backwards. Impressively, he remained on his feet - well, foot, which he hopped on until the rest of his limbs caught up with his body. He stood up straight, turning to face Aymeric, crossing his arms aggressively. 

"Why not." Estinein growled, a dangerous edge to his tone. "I thought I was being nice for a change."

"It's quite alright, _old friend_. Ill do it." Aymeric skimmed past Estinien, his face set with determination.

As Aymeric made his way off, Lucia finally let the laugh she'd been holding back escape. Estinien spun around to face her, "And what are you giggling about?" Lucia's laugh turned even more hearty at his words, and the dragoon gave a decided hiss, before vanishing somewhere upwards and over. Lucia had never had the opportunity to see Aymeric and Estinien's informal interactions with each other before, but she was well glad she had the opportunity today. They were certainly good friends; though she doubted Estinien had any idea of the favour he'd just extended to Aymeric in his quest for his own self-gratification. Like two schoolboys, she added to the thought, with a note of fondness.

She heard Aymeric call her from far, and she turned to see him hovering a little awkwardly by the door.

Seems the schoolboy needs moral support, she thought, smiling as she walked up to meet him.


	12. Chapter 12

"Just stop. Whatever you're thinking."

"Wha-", Aymeric started, but he was cut off sharply. 

"I don't know, but I'm sure you're overthinking something again. It was funny watching you agonise over this situation for a while, but now it's simply tiresome." 

Lucia had said her piece in one long snap, before pursing her lips tightly, further enhancing her scowl. Aymeric remained silent.

As Lucia had made her way over to him, Aymeric had sobered up from the playful interlude his friend had pulled from him. He was quite aware how ridiculous his behaviour had been. Especially so considering the two childhood friends' ages and titles. Still, it was fun. He had felt the oh-so familiar tension and stress ebb away. In the hard to come by moment of peace, the tips of Aymeric's lips turned upwards into a smile that could barely be seen. Was it truly alright for him to be so selfish after all? 

"Do you not mind?" he asked Lucia tentatively as he focused once more on the conversation.

Confusion replaced Lucia's scowl, quickly followed by horror. While Aymeric and Lucia had grown close over the years, he was still under the impression that Lucia's loyalty to him stemmed from her unwavering belief in his vision for Ishgard. He had thought that any distraction thereforto could only be unwelcome. 

He attempted to put his thoughts into words as his eyes searched the mists, "There is so much yet to be done, and so many times we have failed. If I were to be so..."  
Instead of a word he simply cast a glance to his side,  
"Would that not detract from all we have set out to achieve?" 

"Oh was that it?" Lucia relaxed as she muttered something under her breath. She seemed to realise something and she snapped back to him, her eyes widened in shock. "Do you mean you are actually going inside?"

Aymeric closed his eyes and dipped his neck forward a fraction in admission. 

The flicker of a smile invaded Lucia's sombre expression as she measured her words. She finally continued, her voice firm, "Aymeric. I respect you greatly, and I can roughly surmise what you may have been thinking. The Warrior of Light certainly does hold a position with great responsibility, as do you, so I imagine any kind of relationship between the two of you would certainly be complex, but are you not thinking too far ahead. I know you are wont to plan ahead - _obsessively_ so. But..." 

She shifted slightly as she trailed off, "Well, firstly, you can't even be sure she feels the same way. Secondly, watching this is, as I said before, agonising. There is nothing wrong with taking some time out of your duties for your personal wellbeing. I do in fact have a very healthy social, physical and romantic personal life, which does not interfere with my work whatsoever."

"You do?" Aymeric asked incredulously. 

Lucia's scowl returned full force and her retort came out a growl, "What would make you so surprised to hear as such?" 

Aymeric bit his tongue, "Nothing, nothing at all. I just wasn't sure how you found the time honestly." He paused, "Besides, your tone of voice over the word 'obsessive' implied it was not a compliment, so shall we call this exchange even?" 

Lucia narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but said nothing. 

Aymeric let out a sharp breath, mist billowing forcefully along with it, "Well, will I be seeing you later in Ishgard tonight or will you be retiring on your arrival?"

Lucia looked in the direction of Ishgard before answering wistfully, "Work waits for no one. I suspect there is quite a lot I need to go over to be apace with events in the past days." 

Aymeric smiled, accentuating the shadows under his eyes, as if to confirm her suspicions. She gave a withering salute, then trudged away, a shadow of her former giggling self.

\-----

Aymeric's countenance as he entered the dining hall far from mirrored his emotions as he made his way over gracefully to a long wooden table, chipped and scratched from years, even generations of toil at the hands of hardened Ishgardian soldiers. She was sitting on one of the benches, her elbows on the table, back facing him, a steaming mug in her hands as she chatted amiably to the man across from her.

He cast a scrutinizing glance at the man. He was somewhat familiar with Lord Haurchefaunt, having interacted with him at various functions and official duties involving the High Houses. He certainly carried the air of the Count - albeit with an edge to it that was more appropriate for one half Hauchefaunt's age. Although, Aymeric was also familiar with his younger brother for whom the word 'exuberant' could only half describe, so he supposed it must run in the family. Aymeric felt a lurch of anxiety from his stomach. Rather than the jealousy he had felt earlier, he felt unsettled as he noted the relaxed atmosphere between the pair. 

Hauchefaunt, noticing his approach, stood from his seat, the jovial smile across his features fading as he addressed Aymeric, "Lord Commander? Is aught amiss? I thought your company had departed for Ishgard some time ago." 

Aymeric motioned for him to remain seated, suddenly very aware from the corner of his vision that another pair of eyes were locked on him, "Not at all. I sent my knights ahead of me as I wished to have a moment of the Warrior of Light's time before my departure. Please forgive me for interrupting your meal."

Hauchefaunt, apparently determined not to listen to a single word he said, swung his legs over the bench, and began making his way to the door, "Of course, I will inform Alphinaud immediately." 

Aymeric side stepped into his path before Haurchefaunt could go further, "That won't be necessary, but I thank you for your consideration." 

At this point, Aymeric wouldn't be surprised if everyone in the room could hear the sound of his heart crashing in his chest. Thank Halone many residents of Camp Dragonhead were here for their evening meal, so he hoped the scraping of cutlery and moving of furniture would drown it out. Haurchefaunt seemed to have been struck dumb now that he understood the full impact of his request. The two stood facing each other awkwardly. 

"Of course." Someone interjected from beside them. Aymeric felt his stomach jolt, and he did everything he could to not react visibly to the voice. He smiled politely to Haurchefaunt, before turning to face the Warrior of Light, the same smile plastered forcefully across his face. He gave a courtly bow, reaching out his hand to the young lady. 

"We could speak here, or outside, whichever you prefer."

She smiled over her shoulder as she took his hand and lifted herself from her seat. There was no doubt Aymeric was quite incapable of taking his eyes off her once more. 

They had never been quite so close before. She cast her eyes downwards as she lifted her legs one at a time over the bench, ever so delicately. Her eyelashes were dark and long, contrasting perfectly against soft pale skin and the bright flecks of her irises. Her teeth had come down on her lower lip for an instant, leaving the lips underneath them with a small sheen that only amplified their colour. Aymeric swallowed, with some difficulty, as it seemed all the moisture in his own mouth had summarily vanished. 

She hadn't applied even the slightest amount of pressure on his hand, but Aymeric was absolutely aware of every single shift her hand made before it left and fell to her side as she turned to face him. He rose from his bow and suddenly realised once she was on the other side of the bench, he was merely ilms away from her. His mind clearing, he stepped backwards and awaited her response. 

"A walk sounds wonderful." A hand came up to tuck her hair behind her one ear as she answered, her neck dipped forwards, her voice quiet but melodic. Aymeric felt his heart thrumming dangerously again, but he was the picture of a gentleman as he led her outside the noisy confines of the building. 

\----

"Do I even exist?" Haurchefaunt grumbled playfully to himself as he watched the pair leave the room, a corner of his heart deflating into non existence, unbeknownst even to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably many typos and unwanted phone auto corrects. And many many months too late >.<
> 
> I might wake up with regrets and change a whole lot of this chapter xD


End file.
